Dawce.

Have you ever had an animal who just didn’t ‘fit’? What the hell do you do with them?

You may have notice that I barely ever mention the cats, and least of all Dawce (proper name: Darcy). Though maybe Mia doesn’t get mentioned either but that’s just because she’s a nice friendly cat who purrs and likes to be picked up and who sits on your lap and goes through phases of being very very friendly and loving. She is a nice cat.

Then …

There’s Dawce.

Thewe he is. During his more ‘slender’ days.

What the hell can you say about Dawce? He’s a big, fat, black cat. He meows to himself a lot and walks around stomping his little feet. He’s very very very soft. Oh my god he’s so soft but you can’t ever experience the softness because he’s always outside. By himself. In the cat run.

Or if he’s not outside, he’s like, looking at the roof and wondering how it got there. Or he’s sitting on a couch not grooming himself because he never grooms himself. He has these fluffy fluffy butt-pants that we call ‘poobs’ because they’re kind of like pubes but sometimes he gets bits of shit stuck in there.

I’m not even kidding.

Worst. fricken. cat. ever.

Fricken poobs for christ sakes.

I mean, seriously dude, what the hell is wrong with you? This is probably the face he pulls when you try cutting out his poobs.

I mean, seriously dude, what the hell is wrong with you? This is probably the face he pulls when you try cutting out his poobs.

And you open up the door to the front room or the training room and he’s all like: BROW! And ‘trundles’ (because he doesn’t move at a run, he moves at an extended trot and his feet go ‘thudthudthudthudthud’) in and then we forget he’s there because he’s lying around somewhere silently not grooming himself and then he gets trapped and he meows for like, a minute and then stays trapped all night.

And he rolls around, just because. Like: holy crap! The training room is open and there’s a giant luxurious rug! I have to roll my fat self all over it. Feel the luxury. And because he’s such a weirdo, he has a special voice. Do you give voices to your pets? I’m hoping we’re not the only strange ones. That being said, although our animals have ‘voices’, Dawce has a full on speech disorder. I’m not even kidding, like, a speech therapist would have a field day with him. Because he’s such a freak.

Check out my jute-rug luxury.

Check out my jute-rug luxury. (which in Dawce voice would read kind of like: “Tseck out my dsute wug luxuowoy”)

And he can’t jump up on things. Anything higher than the kitchen counters is a huge effort for him and he often fails. Sometimes when he tries to get on his cat scratcher he like, grabs on with his front paws and has to haul his fat ass and all the extra weight he’s carrying in his poobs onto the platform. It’s called jumping up, you dickhead.

Sometimes they can be nice together!

Sometimes they can be nice together!

All this to say that while he is a nice cat and he doesn’t scratch us or bite us or fight with the dogs, he does sometimes fight and chase Mia, which makes us open the front-room’s door and then ‘accidentally’ close him in there, he isn’t kind of part of the family. Like, Mia comes and visits and sleeps on our laps and hangs out with us in the kitchen a lot… Dawce just… appears for meals, and sometimes sleeps on my legs. Why is he such a loser? Maybe he has a happy enough life being a solo cat and we just need to feed him and occasionally cut chunks out of his poobs and give him access to an outdoor area and that’s going to be his life for the next 16 years.

Just kind of sucks…

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